Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Marcus Severns writes

Three Storms

 Three winds in my head,
              A soft wind from the west,
                           A cold wind from the south,
              And east blows a tropical wind.

              They meet in the center,
                           As a migraine,
               And the lights go out.

                           All is black peripheral
                           And the center is flickering rainbows,
                                    With a sick swirl half-color
                                    Half void

                           Like oil spilled across a rain puddle.

 If I could see the screen on the phone,
                          I'd call into work.

My left hand rubs my pants,
             My right drums fingers and thumb
              Across the glass of my telephone.

             With head leaned back on the couch,
                           I let out a sigh.

             Cluster storm migraine,
                           From both hemispheres,
                           With occipital lobe disturbances.

There is a pattern here,
             But I was too busy worried about Christmas
             I forgot to notice them –

                            Like checking the weather every so often –

These things can be predicted.

 Something in me
 Wanted a day off.

                                   It's okay
                                   If it's medical,
                                           They'll understand --
                                   I'll just take this day
                                           To watch the rainy colors in my head.

 Related image
 Storm -- Robert Civello

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